


tattooed hearts, floral souls

by umbrellawarriors



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop & Tattoo Parlor, Panic Attacks, background perc'ahlia - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-30
Updated: 2018-05-27
Packaged: 2018-12-21 22:15:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11953752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/umbrellawarriors/pseuds/umbrellawarriors
Summary: “So, I met the new neighbors.” she says, sipping her coffee while spinning lazily in the chair.“Yeah? How were they?” Scanlan asks, absentmindedly digging through a box at his station.“Oh, I don’t know. They seem nice enough. Awfully odd group to be running a flower shop. One of them- his name was Percival, how weird is that?- seemed a tad pretentious, but still nice. I offered the girl- I think her name was Vex? Or was that the boy one?- a free tattoo in exchange for flowers.”Or, Keyleth works at a tattoo shop.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> sooooo i wrote this and got sick of sitting on it so I figured i'd publish it. As of this moment, beyond perc'ahlia, i'm not entirely sure of the ships. I know this is gonna focus more on the friendship between scanlan, grog, and keyleth. I haven't decided yet if its gonna be grogleth, vaxleth, or kashleth, but it'll be one of those three. probably.  
> follow me on tumblr! I'm pike-trickfoots

Shorthalt and Strongjaw Tattoos and Piercings was an odd place to be considered a safe haven, but Keyleth knew she was odd herself. Three years ago, she never would’ve believed she’d be working as a tattoo artist, much less enjoying it.

But things change a lot in three years.

Scanlan and Grog, the aforementioned Shorthalt and Strongjaw were…  _ peculiar  _ business owners, but they were kind and willing to hire someone with no prior experience, no portfolio, and only halfway through her tattoo licensure. 

Keyleth would always be grateful to them; they lightened her heart after the loss of her mother. They were family, after these last two and a half years. 

Still, some part of her will still have to hold in the urge to throttle Scanlan every time he brings someone back to the shop for…  _ activities.  _

Which is why Keyleth is stuck shivering on the curb in front of the shop while he and some girl scramble for their clothes. Keyleth’s grumbling, wondering why she bothers to come in early to open the shop, when she notices a man in a blue puffy coat unloading a van in front of the empty building across the street. The man notices her staring and waves.

Keyleth, figuring there’s no point in just sitting there, freezing her ass off, walks over to the unoccupied building. The building had once been a nifty little store- Gilmore’s Glorious Goods- but the store had moved to a larger location downtown. Gilmore, the owner, had come over a few times, gotten a tattoo or two, and before the big move had told them of the new tenants- a flower shop, or something.

Well, given the man in the blue coat is carrying trays of succulents, Keyleth would wager that the new shop was indeed a flower shop, or something. The man smiles as she approaches, and sticks his hand out, “Percival Fredrickstein von Musel Klosowski de Rolo the Third.”

Keyleth blinks, “Gesundheit.” 

Percival hoosey-whatsit something-or-other the Third laughs, and says, “Call me Percy, please.”

Keyleth almost sighs in relief, “Oh, okay. I’m Keyleth,” and she shakes his hand. 

“So, do you work over at Shorthalt and Strongjaw’s, then? Are you Shorthalt? Strongjaw, maybe?” Percy asks as he moves into the store.

“Gods, no! I mean, I do work there but I’m not either of them. Ugh, that would be so  _ weird.  _ Like, I love the both of them to death but being them would be so… I don’t know,  _ weird.  _ Icky, maybe?” Keyleth rambled, grabbing a tray of plants and bringing them into the store behind Percy. “I’m rambling, aren’t I? I always do that. Ugh. But yeah, I’m a tattoo artist there. Sometimes I do piercings, but Scanlan mostly does those. So, what are you doing here?”

The store is bright, with lots of windows and natural lights, and filled with long, flat tables, and Percy drops the succulents on one of the back tables and gestures for Keyleth to drop her tray next to his, “Thank you, you didn’t need to do this. And I was somewhat dragged into this business venture by my friends- I guess it’s obvious, but we’re opening a floral shop- Whitestone Floral Arrangements, even though ironically I can’t keep a plant alive longer than a few days.”

Keyleth laughs, “Really? Then why go into the flower business?”

“I rather like all the meanings behind flowers, and despite my lack of ability to keep them alive, I am somewhat good at arranging them,” Percy says, and turns towards a back room Keyleth had yet to notice, “And, you know, my NOT AT ALL BOSSY and NON-INTIMIDATING FRIENDS DRAGGED ME KICKING and SCREAMING.”

Two identical, beautiful, dark-haired heads pop out from the back room, “Percival! Complementing us in front of a guest, I see,” says the female one.

“Only the highest praise for you, darling.”

The woman winks at him.

“Well,” says Percy, “This is Keyleth, she works across the street at the tattoo shop, and Keyleth, this is Vex,” he gestures towards the girl, who waves, “and this is her brother Vax,” he gestures towards the man, who nods at her.

“Vex and Vax?” Keyleth says, “Did your parents-”

“Hate us? Probably.” Says Vax, Vex nodding in agreement.

“Oh.”

“Yep,” says Vax, picking up a spray bottle and walking towards the succulents, “so, a tattoo artist? You do those yourself?” he asks, gesturing towards the multiple swirls around her arms.

“No, someone else did them for me.” she says, running her finger over the whorls on her left arm.

“They’re beautiful,” says Vex, “I’ve always wanted a tattoo. I might make a trip over to the shop one of these days.”

“Well,” Keyleth says, “Speaking of the shop, I should probably head over. Scanlan’s probably, um… opened by now, and I have an appointment early today, but if you come over sometime after closing, I’ll give you a free tattoo in exchange for some flowers- maybe daisies?”

Vex’s eyes light up, “Really? Just for daisies?”

“Yeah, I love flowers. They could freshen up the shop, anyways.”

“I’ll have to hold you to that, then,” Vex says.

“If you want to, I’m normally at the shop late on Thursdays, so just swing by then and we can ink you up.”

“Keyleth, I have the feeling we are going to be very good friends.” Vex grins, and hugs her before Keyleth scurries back across the street.

 

Scanlan, thank the Gods, has managed to not only be fully clothed, but also started opening the shop- and he’s made the coffee (a welcome apology- no matter what Keyleth does, her coffee can’t beat his; he says he uses fancy imported spices or something). 

It nearly makes up for seeing his bare ass this morning-  _ nearly.  _

Keyleth takes a seat behind the front desk, in the big squishy swivel chair while looking through the appointment book. The store is peaceful; the big windows let in lots of natural light that reflects off the old hardwood floors. Shorthalt and Strongjaw isn’t the fanciest shop in the world, but Keyleth wouldn’t change a thing.

“So, I met the new neighbors.” she says, sipping her coffee while spinning lazily in the chair.

“Yeah? How were they?” Scanlan asks, absentmindedly digging through a box at his station.

“Oh, I don’t know. They seem nice enough. Awfully odd group to be running a flower shop. One of them- his name was  _ Percival _ , how weird is that?- seemed a tad pretentious, but still nice. I offered the girl- I think her name was Vex? Or was that the boy one?- a free tattoo in exchange for flowers.”

Scanlan looks at her, “Bad deal, dude. Flowers die, tattoos are forever.”

“What would you know about bad deals? You spent like, four thousand dollars on cumin.”

“Hey! It was  _ four hundred _ , and it was  _ cinnamon. _ And you still made a bad deal.”

Keyleth flashes him A Look as Grog, a goliath of man with an excellent hand for detailed work ambles in the front door, “It’s called being  _ neighborly,  _ Scanlan.”

“What is?” asks Grog.

“Keyleth offered the new neighbors free tattoos in exchange for flowers.” Scanlan offers.

“I know I’m not the brightest bulb in the bunch, but can’t you find flowers outside? For free?”

“Guys! It’s not about getting a financially equal deal! It’s about making friends with our neighbors! Gilmore liked us, yeah, but that’s because we let him hang out with us while we drank! Viktor, at the metal shop down the road? He  _ hates _ us! And it’s not because we blew up his car that one time, either!” Keyleth says, slamming her coffee down.

“So?” Asks Grog.

“We can’t have all our neighbors hate us!”

“You sure?”  
“Ugh. Yes.”

“And besides,” muses Scanlan, picking up Keyleth’s coffee and drinking from it, “more people we like… means more people in on the Prank War.”

“No, Scanlan.” Says Keyleth, snatching her coffee back.

“Too late!” Grog hollers, face lit up like a kid’s on Winter’s Crest, “they’re definitely in on it now.”

“Ugh. Fine.”

 

The Prank War, as legend has it, began back when Scanlan and Grog were teenagers. Whoever started it is a fact lost to time, but has escalated over the years to the extremes of near jail time, a lifetime ban from Wal-Mart  _ and  _ the Target in Emon, along with mild to moderate arson.

Keyleth, for the most part, has managed to stay out of it, though watching the pranks has been a constant source of joy and anxiety in her daily life. She did get dragged into the arson thing, though- it was the first time she’d laughed, really laughed, since everything that happened with her mother (and besides, despite what the news said about the fire, it was a controlled blaze. The Channel 4 News just loved hyping things to the extremes). 

She shudders to think what Scanlan and Grog might do with the added bonus of three newbies.

 

Growing up, Grog never would’ve believed he’d be a small business owner. Especially a  _ successful  _ small business owner. Grog always thought he’d end up joining his uncle’s gang, and probably wind up in jail or worse.

But he didn’t. 

He has Pike to thank for that. Pike, and Papaw Wilhand, of course. They took him in off the streets when he was twelve. They might not be related, but Pike’s the closest thing he has to a sister. Wait, fuck that- Pike  _ is  _ his sister.

She’s the one who introduced him to Scanlan, the one who helped him to discover his talent for drawing, the one who helped bankroll the shop. She even told him he should hire Keyleth.

Yep. Grog wouldn’t be anywhere without Pike Trickfoot. She’s his best friend, his sister, his- some third thing, and he wouldn’t trade her for anything.

Even when she’s nagging him. 

They’re in their shared apartment, watching  _ Game of Thrones.  _ Grog doesn’t really get it, but Pike likes it, and she sits through  _ The Bachelor  _ with him, so. 

“Grog! I signed you up for that business class  _ for a reason.  _ Why didn’t you go?” She asks, standing in front of the TV. 

“‘Cuz I already got a functionin’ small business. What’s the point?” He replies, leaning to watch around her.

“ _ Because,  _ you could really learn something and improve Shorthalt and Strongjaw.”

“Ugh. Nope. Happy with the shop the way it is.”

Pike sighs and sits down, “Is it because you’re scared of the reading? I thought you got over that.”

“I did.”

“Grog.”

“Maybe not.”

The thing is, Grog was practically illiterate before the Trickfoots took him in. It took him years of hard work with Pike and Papaw Willhand to be able to read as well as he can now, which still isn’t that great. 

“Grog, I wish you would let me tutor you again, we could probably improve your confidence when it comes to reading.” Pike says, gently.

“I can read fine.”

“Are you sure?” Pike asks.

“Yep.”

“Are you gonna go to the class?”

“Nope.”

“ _ Grog! _ ”

 

Grog has his own office at the shop- his  _ study _ , he likes to call it. It’s a glorified janitors closet, and he keeps a recliner, a radio, a mini-fridge, and his important knick-knacks in there. It’s not much, but it’s  _ his.  _ (He even has a “ _ Grog Only” _ sign on the door, which is pretty kickass). 

Sitting on top of the radio, there’s a small potted cactus that Keyleth gave him a few months ago. She’s the only other person allowed in his study. Sometimes, when he catches her in the back alley crying or punching the wall, he’ll steer her back into the shop and tell her she can use the space for a bit.

He’s not sure why he does that, but he figures it’s what she needs. A private, quiet space. 

It’s what he’d want. 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Scanlan still can’t quite believe the path his life’s taken; he grew up on the streets, became a semi-successful musician, became a father, went to rehab, and eventually started Emon’s most sought-after tattoo shop.

It sounds like the kind of story you’d see on the news, not something you live through. If Scanlan’s being honest, half the time it doesn’t feel real.

Looking back on it, he’d change a lot of things. But he’d never change Kaylie. He was shocked when he found out about his daughter- he’s a _father_ , for crying out loud- but out of everything he’s done, from his music to Shorthalt and Strongjaw, she is the best. No contest.

Which is why he’s incredibly grateful that Sybil, Kaylie’s mother, lets her spend the weekends with him. He has fourteen years to make up for, and goddamn if he isn’t going to try.

“Hey kiddo,” Scanlan says as Kaylie walks into the shop. Her school is three blocks away from the shop, and on Fridays she walks over and hangs out until they close for the night. “How was school?”

“Fine.” She replies, dumping her backpack and flute case by the door and flopping onto the singular sofa that makes up the waiting room.

“How was band practice?”

“Pretty good- Dr. Dranzel says if I practice a little and improve my sight reading, I can be section leader next year.” She says nonchalantly, scrolling away on her phone.

“Section leader? Your sophomore year? Kaylie, that’s amazing!” Scanlan shouts, running over to high five her.

“Yeah, I guess.” She replies.

“We have to celebrate! I’m so proud! My kid’s a musical genius!” Scanlan whoops.

“ _Dad-_ ” interjects Kaylie, “It’s not that big of a de-”

“Of course it’s a big deal! You practice so hard, you can outplay all the seniors.”

Kaylie rolls her eyes.

Keyleth, who had been cleaning up her station, wanders over, “What’s up?”

“Kaylie’s gonna be section leader next year. Her _sophomore year.”_ Scanlan brags.

“ _Dad!_ ”

“Dude, that’s amazing! I wish I was more musical. Ugh, that’d be awesome. I’m so jealous of musical people, it’s like- why do they get all the talent?” Keyleth rambles, “But seriously, Kaylie, that’s amazing! I know one of my friends was really good at the violin- or was it the cello, which one’s the big one?- and she _never_ got section leader, much less in as a lower classman. It’s awesome!”

“Really?” Kaylie asks, quietly.

“Yeah, of course! She was really good, too- she got basically a full ride to college for music.” Keyleth replies.

“Huh. Guess I _am_ pretty impressive.” Kaylie says, small, smug grin spreading across her face, and she returns her attention to her phone.

“Of course you’re impressive, you’re a Shorthalt! Hey, Keyleth, can you help me move some stuff in the back real quick?” Scanlan asks.

Keyleth follows him into the back storeroom, “What do you need moved?”

“Thank you.” Scanlan says, earnestly.

“What?” asks Keyleth, confused.

“I know Kaylie’s had a rough go of it, finding out her father’s an ex-druggie and the guy who does half the piercings in Emon. I worry about her sometimes- that can’t be good for her self confidence. So, what you did back there- making her realize she did something really, really, awesome? Thank you.” He says, leaning against a shelving unit and staring determinedly at his feet.

“Scanlan-”

“I know I’m not the best father in the world,” he says, looking up at her, “I’m trying, yeah, but I don’t have it all down yet. So I’ve had to rely a lot on you, and Grog. You guys have been amazing, and you’ve both helped me out so much this past year, me and Kaylie. So yeah. Thanks.” As Scanlan goes to leave, he stops, and gives Keyleth a quick hug.

As he leaves, Scanlan can’t stop thinking how grateful he is that Pike forced Grog to hire Keyleth. She’s a good kid, with a lot of love and optimism in her heart; she’s just been through a hell of a time. Keyleth reminds him a lot of Kaylie, honestly. When he first met Keyleth, she was angry; angry and lost. She still is, he thinks, she just got better at hiding it.

He won’t tell Keyleth this, but he worries about her, too, sometimes.

 

Vex, true to her word, comes to Shorthalt and Strongjaw on a Thursday night around seven PM, bearing a beautiful bouquet of daisies. Almost sheepishly, Vex asks, “Is our deal still on the table?”

Keyleth grins, “Of course! These are beautiful!”, and leads Vex back to her station. “So, do you know what you want?”

Vex grins, and takes out her phone, pulling up a reference image. It’s a bear, small, minimal shading, no color. Easy. Keyleth can have Vex tatted up in an hour or two. They go over the design, and Keyleth draws up a few potential designs. Vex agrees on Keyleth’s design, decides she wants it on her left shoulder, and Keyleth gets to work.

She works in silence for a few minutes, before Vex says, “How long have you been a tattoo artist?”

“Oh, about… two and a half years, now? That sounds right. Yeah, two and a half years.” Keyleth absentmindedly replies.

“Did you always want to be a tattoo artist?” Vex asks.

“No, I never even considered it. It was just something I kinda fell into- I always thought I’d be a botanist, honestly.” Keyleth admits.

“A botanist? Sounds like you’re more qualified to run a flower shop than I am.” Vex says, sucking in a quick breath when Keyleth starts on the shading- Vex will never admit it, but the tattoo hurts like a bitch.

“Yeah, well. Life throws curve balls, you know? Can you hold a still a little bit, you’re starting to get shaky.”

“Oh, yeah, sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

Keyleth works in silence for a few minutes, before asking, “So why a flower shop?”

“I don’t know, my brother and my fiance came up with the idea. And I guess, my mother always loved her flowers- I guess we wanted to do something with our lives she’d appreciate. And Percy ran the numbers; in this area, a flower shop can do pretty well, he thinks.” Vex says, staring at the tray to her right Keyleth is using to hold her supplies.

“So Percy’s your fiance?”

“Yeah. We haven’t really planned much of the wedding yet, but we’re thinking July, August, maybe?”

“Wow, congratulations. So you’re gonna be Vex Fredericksburg von Whatever do-Hickey the third? Or are you gonna hyphenate?” Keyleth teases.

Vex does that thing where a person laughs without laughing, which Keyleth appreciates- it’s hard to tattoo a laughing person, “No hyphenating, but ugh I’m gonna have to learn how to _spell_ his _goddamn last name!_ ”

“ _Oh, noooooo!_ ” Keyleth fake cries out, causing Vex to sort-of laugh again.

Grog, who had been in his ‘study’, pokes his head out the door and asks, “Is everythin’ okay?”

Keyleth laughs, “Yeah Grog, I’m good, thanks.”

“Oh, well… okay.” He replies, and gives her a long look that she doesn’t notice before going back inside his ‘study’.

Vex notices. It’s a look she can’t quite decipher, but one that reminds her an awful lot of the way Percy looked at her before they got together. She stores _that one_ away in her memory, and the rest of her tattoo goes by smoothly. When Keyleth finishes, Vex tries to tip her, but she refuses, “If you want, you can bring me by some more flowers.”

Keyleth hands her a pamphlet on aftercare, and Vex thanks her profusely. She loves it, the tattoo is better than she could’ve ever imagined. Vex exits the shop and crosses to Whitestone Floral Arrangements.

“PERCY, VAX, LOOK AT MY TATTOO IT’S AWESOME!” She yells, flinging open the front door.

After they appropriately coo over the tattoo (it’s an awesome tattoo, Keyleth did a great job), Vex grins and singsongs, “I think I figured something _ooout_.”

“What?” Percy and Vax ask at the same time.

“That was weird- anyways, there’s this big fellow over at Shorthalt and Strongjaw; his name’s Grog, and when I say big, he’s big. And so I was getting my tattoo from Keyleth, and he poked his head out the back, and you should’ve _seen_ the way he looked at her.” Vex says, trying to angle her shoulder so she can see her tattoo.

“How’d he look at her?” asks Vax, picking up a tray of gardenias and placing them on one of the long tables.

“Like Percy looked at me before we got together!”

“And?” Asks Vax, rolling his eyes.

“ _Aaand_ , that clearly means this Grog fellow has a thing for Keyleth!”

“So, let me get this straight,” says Percy, fondly, “Someone we don’t know may or may not have a thing for someone we barely know, and in all honestly they might be together, because, let me say it again: we barely know them.”

“Well, when you say it like that…” Grumbles Vex.

“Darling, with your powers of perception, I’m sure they’re madly in love but just haven’t noticed it yet.” Percy grins, leaning down to kiss her forehead, “You’re a genius and I love you.”

Vax pretends to retch, “Really? In front of my gardenias?”

Vex swats him on the arm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wasn't planning on picking this back up for a while, so whoops? anyway here you go no editing we die like men


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short lil update- i might go back and edit this, idk but i wanted to post something, so... yep. Gonna try to post a little more consistently but, college.

Keyleth wakes up Monday morning with a pounding headache, sore throat, and runny nose. She briefly contemplates calling in sick, and pulls Scanlan’s number up on her scratched phone screen when she notices the date.

The anniversary is in a few days, and everyone knows she’ll be hungover and useless and depressed for about two days. She can’t call out that many days in one week; Scanlan and Grog are understanding, but that feels like taking advantage of them.

So she grits her teeth, puts on her coziest sweater, takes some aspirin, and heads out to work.

Grog surprisingly, gets to the shop before her- he’s standing sheepishly in front of the door, kicking the half-melted snow that still covers the ground. When Keyleth gets within earshot, he bellows, “I don’ think I’ve ever beaten you here! I don’ have a key.”

Keyleth laughs, or at least, makes as close to a laughing noise as she can with her sore throat.

“You alright?” Grog asks, looking slightly concerned as Keyleth unlocks the front door.

“Fine.” She rasps

“You don’ sound alright,” Grog says as he hangs his coat up on the beat up coat rack by the front door.

“Feel like death.”

“Then why’d you come in?” Asks Grog, spinning around to stare at her.

“Because I’m gonna take Thursday and Friday off.” Keyleth says as she beelines for the coffee pot- thankfully, Scanlan bought one of those fancy coffeemakers that works on a timer over Winter’s Crest, and there’s a fresh pot waiting.

“Oh. For what?”

Keyleth sighs, and sets the coffee pot down, turning around to look at him, “Thursday’s the anniversary.”

“The annivers- oh.”

“Yeah.”

“You should still prob’ly go home. You’re sick and everything.” He says, strange look on his face- _not quite pity_ , Keyleth thinks, _but something like that_.

She doesn’t want pity. “I’m fine, Grog.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Grog.” She says, teeth gritted.

He regards her for a long moment, before saying, “Well, if you ever need anythin’... Me ‘n Scanlan… We’re here for you.”

“Thanks, Grog.” Keyleth replies, and she looks happier at that, so Grog figures he did something right, at least.

 

Grog doesn’t know the whole story- it’s not his business, and if Keyleth wanted him to know more she’d tell him. Right?

He knows her mom went missing her sophomore year of college- she was studying something with plants, or flowers? He knows she dropped out to go help her father run their family business after that, and that after a few months at home she left to go search for her mom. He knows that Keyleth was declared a missing person herself, for a few weeks; that she was found wandering in the woods two states away, completely fine. He knows her mom’s case is closed- that she’s probably dead. He knows she loved her mom a lot; more than he ever loved his mom.

He also knows that the anniversary of her mother’s disappearance is this Thursday.

What he doesn’t know, is how to help her through this week.

So if a container of chicken noodle soup shows up on her desk- _for your cold_ \- and a six pack- _for everything else_ \- well, he wouldn’t have a clue about it.

But he does know it’s what he would’ve wanted.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for all the random updates! I might be able to get another short chapter up this week, but if not I will be posting more consistently come december. Hope you enjoy it!

It’s a Monday morning when Keyleth walks into the shop five minutes late, bleary-eyed and half awake. Stomping the early December slush off her boots, she beelines for the coffeepot, desperate for something to wake her up. It takes her about halfway through her first mug to realize the lights are all on and that Scanlan’s purple coat and Grog’s ratty baseball cap are hanging up on the rackety old coat rack by the front door, but they are nowhere to be seen.

“Scanlan? Grog?” Keyleth calls out, putting her chipped coffee mug down by her work station and heading towards Grog’s ‘study’.

She puts her ear to the door, and she can hear hushed giggles. _Shit._ They’ve pranked someone.

Shaking her head and muttering about the immaturity of the people who sign her paychecks, Keyleth walks back to her waiting coffee and begins working on some designs for her portfolio.

Keyleth sketches in relative peace for about fifteen minutes, ignoring the now much more obvious giggling from the back room, when the front door flings open.

In walks a thin figure dressed in dark jeans and a leather jacket, with hair longer than hers. For a second, she thinks it’s Vex, but then she remembers Vex has a twin - _what was his name?_ Oh right. Vax.

Vax storms into the shop, looking quite angry. “Hey! The fuck, guys?”

Keyleth stares.

“Where are they?”

“What?”

“Ugh, right. So, I hung out with Grog and Scanlan on Friday and they told me about their prank war, right? And so when Scanlan passed out at the bar, I drew on his face, right? And they pranked me back AND IT’S NOT COOL, GUYS,” He yells pointedly, looking around the shop for the two dumbasses in question.

“What’d they do?” Keyleth asks, trying to hide a smile.

“You know those pranks where people fill up a shitload of plastic cups with water and put them all over the floor? That’s our shop right now.”

Keyleth winces.

“Yeah. They’re lucky Vex had to take her dog to the vet today or else they’d be getting murdered right now.”

“That’s not what you’re here to do?”

“I mean… no, mainly, I’m here to just ask them what the fuck? Also, how did they get in my shop?”

Keyleth shakes her head good-naturedly, “Sometimes I think Scanlan can teleport.” She gets up from her sketching and walks over to the door with the _Grog Only_ sign and opens it, “Time to come out, boys. He figured it out.”

They exit, sheepishly, but Grog is still giggling like a schoolkid.

Keyleth, laughing, walks back to her station while Vax chews them out.

Today is going to be a good day.

 

So, here’s the thing: Keyleth was in a bad place for a long time. Which is understandable, right? _Her mom went missing and they never found her body and the police never cared enough to_ really _investigate and it would make no sense for her mom to just up and leave she loved her home and her family why would she leave why would she leave why would she leave?_

So she dropped out of school halfway through her botany degree to try to find her mother. Only, after a few weeks in the woods, she was robbed by some random kids and left lost and wandering.

After, while Keyleth was in the hospital getting checked out, she became friends with a kind nurse named Pike. Pike had seen some of her sketches, and asked if she had ever wanted to do tattoos.

Pike told her about Shorthalt and Strongjaw’s. She advocated for Keyleth to get a job there, even if she had yet to be licensed.

Keyleth owes a lot to Pike.

But even when she had gotten her job at the shop, working essentially as a secretary while Scanlan and Grog advised her on her portfolio and helped her with her apprenticeship, Keyleth was still in a bad place.

Scanlan and Grog never really noticed it, or if they did, they never said anything, which Keyleth appreciated. They never treated her any different from any other people, they even pranked her. To them, she was just Keyleth, not the girl whose mom went missing and was presumed dead. To them, she was so much more than the girl who dropped out of college and went missing for three and a half weeks in the forest.

She was their friend.

There was one day, though, when Scanlan had left a few hours early to take Kaylie to band practice, when Keyleth had an attack.

She had a lot of trouble, in the earlier days after the disappearance, when she would have panic attacks. She’d start thinking about how random her mother’s disappearance was and how easy it would be for the other people she loved to go missing - _she_ had gone missing, for heaven’s sake, and her thoughts would start racing and she’d have to go outside and she could hardly breathe, much less calm down and her heart would be beating, beating, beating so fast she felt like she’d explode.

Grog had found Keyleth in the alley, head crouched between her knees, tears rolling down her face, struggling to breathe. Without a word, he sat down beside her and pulled her into his arms. Keyleth, trying to hide her tears, hid her face in Grog’s chest.

“Hey, hey. Jus’ focus on your breathing, right? Try to breathe when I do, okay?” He said, quietly. And they sat there, for what felt like hours, breathing.

When Keyleth calmed down, she looked up to find he was looking right back at her. Grog moved his hand to her cheek and brushed his thumb over her cheekbone. “You all righ’?” He asked, quieter than she’d ever heard.

“Yeah.” She whispered back. And gently, ever so gently, she leaned up and kissed him.

She was about to pull away when he kissed back.

And after a few minutes, when they both came up for air, foreheads pressed together, Keyleth whispered, “Where did you learn to do that?”

“The kissin’ thing or the breathin’ thing?”

Keyleth let loose a small laugh, “The breathing.”

“Oh. I used to get attacks like that when I was lil’, after Pike and her Grandpaw took me in. They used to do that fer me, when it was bad an’ everythin’.”

“Oh.”

They sit like that for a few more minutes, when they both get up and go back inside the shop.

Keyleth and Grog never talked about that day.

Keyleth honestly assumed after a few weeks Grog had forgotten about it, or that it didn’t mean anything to him. She tried not to let that hurt her.

(Grog thought about it as often as she did. It meant something to him, too.)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol @ me at thanksgiving thinking i can update twice in a week. sorry it's been, like, a month, but you know. Life.   
> The tips Grog gets on panic attacks come from reachout.com (https://au.reachout.com/articles/how-to-help-a-friend-with-panic-or-anxiety), and general knowledge.   
> Follow me on tumblr! I'm pike-trickfoots

If you asked him what he was afraid of, Grog Strongjaw would grin and say “Nothin’ in this damn world,” while probably (definitely) flexing his muscles.

If you didn’t know him, you’d probably believe him.

Pike Trickfoot, sister and best friend, knows Grog, probably better than he knows himself. 

Grog is brave, yes - with recklessness bordering on stupidity (but Grog is  _ not. stupid.  _ Never stupid.), and to describe Grog Strongjaw as a coward would be akin to claiming the Earth is flat. 

But Grog is human, and he has fears like any other. Fears of being made to look idiotic, born of his insecurity over his reading ability. She knows he still has nightmares, sometimes, too. That sometimes he’ll dream of his uncle and his gang ( _ his family _ ) beating, beating,  _ beating _ him. That sometimes the dream ends without Papaw Wilhand taking him home, patching him up, and adopting him. That, sometimes, the dream ends with his Uncle Kevdak pulling a gun or knife.

He is slightly afraid of spiders. And elevators.

His panic attacks have subsided, mostly. It’s been years since Pike or Wilhand have been present to help calm him down, and Grog doesn’t really keep them updated on their frequency. He doesn’t want to worry them. 

So when Grog comes to visit Pike one day at the hospital, asking for some information on how to deal with panic attacks, she is understandably nervous.

“Grog, I thought you said you haven’t had an attack in months?” She inquires, gently placing a hand on his bicep.

“I haven’! I promise!” Grog swears, holding up his hand in a mock boy scout salute, “It’s not for me, it’s for a friend.”

“It’s okay to admit you need help, Grog, or that you’re afraid-”

“Pike. I woulda told you if I was havin’ those dreams again, you know that. I jus’ wanna help a friend.” He says, solemnly.

“Really?”

“Swear.”

“Who is it?” Pike asks.

“Someone who needs help,” Grog replies, “And I wanna be there for ‘em, you know? I know how bad the panic attacks can be, and I don’ want them goin’ through it alone.”

Grog leaves the hospital with some colorful pamphlets, after a lecture from Pike on what to do if his friend has another panic attack.

_ Ask them if they’ve had a panic attack before, and what they might think will help them. Encourage them to breathe as slowly and deeply as possible. Encourage them to count backwards slowly from 100. Help them to get comfortable (have them sit or lie down). Reassure them that the panic they’re experiencing will get better. Call the hospital if their symptoms get worse.  _

_ Don’t freak out, and don’t tell them to get over it, for the love of God. _

_Just be there. Be present. Be empathetic, and don’t you dare judge them._  

 

* * *

 

 

Keyleth exits Shorthalt and Strongjaw grumbling. 

It’s been a shit day - she spilled coffee all over her favorite blouse, her bike chain broke, and she’s had two clients cancel on her last minute. So she loudly announces to the mostly empty store that she is taking her lunch hour, darn it, and she might not come back for the rest of the day. It’s just Scanlan, and he’s fixing up a tattoo on Kash, a regular and friend. He has a lot of tattoos from his ex-wife, Vesh, and there are few things he loves more than destroying all the bits of her on him.

Scanlan, not even looking up, just replies, “Can you take that package on the front desk over across the street to Whitestone? It got delivered to the wrong place.”

Keyleth grabs the parcel and makes the trek across the icy road, cursing herself, fate, Scanlan, everyone, everything. It’s been one of  _ those  _ days, where all she wants to do is go sleep for twelve hours and then watch a few episodes of  _ Friends _ while eating leftovers. 

She pushes open the door to Whitestone Floral Arrangements, greeted by a cheery  _ ding!  _ The store is warm, and slightly humid - a massive greenhouse. It smells like damp earth and lilac, and the store is covered inch by inch in beautiful blooms. 

Petunias, lilies, gardenias, orchids, marigolds, roses, snowdrops - everything and more. She strolls up and down the aisles slowly, delighting in the sight. 

The shop immediately sends a grin to her face. She feels at home, almost. 

A familiar white head pokes out of the back - Percy whosie-whatsit, Vex’s fiance. She’s gotten to know him better, lately. They’ve all gone out for drinks, once or twice, and she’s found Percy to be a good friend. Dependable. Witty and funny, and self-deprecating in a way Keyleth appreciates. 

His glasses are askew, and something that could be dirt is smeared on his cheek (though Keyleth suspects it’s grease). “Oh! Hello, I could’ve sworn I heard someone come in. Apologies for not being with you sooner, Keyleth.”

“Hey Percy, how are you?” Keyleth replies, walking towards him.

“Ah, fine. And you?” Percy says, moving behind the register and adjusting his glasses.

“I’ve had shittier days. Anyways, mailman gave us the wrong package,” says Keyleth as she hands over the parcel, “So, here you go.”

“Thank you,” he says, holding the box up by his ear and shaking it. It sounds like metal, crashing together, and Percy instantly brightens. “That’ll be the gears I ordered!”

“Gears?”

“Well, I’m not the florist in the family. I- Well, I guess the word for it would be  _ tinkerer,  _ or maybe clockmaker, nowadays. Inventor sounds too self-aggrandizing, Vex tells me,” Percy explains, “Simply put, I like building things.”

He motions towards the back room, “That’s been serving as my workshop. Do you want to see what I’ve been working on?”

“Yeah, sure,” Keyleth replies, excitedly. 

The storefront, Keyleth realizes, exists in stark contrast with Percy’s workshop. While the front is bright, with lots of light, Percy’s workshop is dark, light mainly by what seems to be a forge and some random lights set up. While the front is neatly organized, Percy’s workshop is organized chaos. Keyleth sees some vials of messily labeled chemicals placed in neat formation next to what looks like half a nunchuck. 

Percy leads her to a messy table, where he shows her a small box. “Push the button.”

When Keyleth does, the top pops open, and out comes a clock face. Delicate silver figures race around the clock - a girl with a bow and arrow runs around the 1-2 hour mark while a winged boy flies around the 11-12 hour mark. A bear naps contentedly at 6-7, sniffing the flowers growing at 5-6 while it sleeps. It’s amazing, the detail in this small pocket watch, and Keyleth tells him as much.

“Thank you. I’m afraid it’s nowhere close to being finished though,” Percy sighs.

“What? It’s so… beautiful, though,” Keyleth replies, astonished as to how anyone could see it as being less than perfect.

“Well, hopefully, these gears,” Percy shakes the box, “will help make the figures move more smoothly, and I need to clean up the lines on the flying boy.”

“Percy, it’s spectacular. Please, will you show me when it’s finished?” Keyleth asks, staring at the detail, the precision of his work. 

“Of course. Is there anything else you needed?” Percy asks. Keyleth can tell he doesn’t mean to be curt, but he wants to continue his work now that he has his gears. 

“No, but I do need to be going. Are we still on for drinks next Thursday?”

“Of course. I’ll see you there. Greyskull Keep?” He replies, tearing open into the box.

“Yep!” Keyleth calls as she exits the workshop. 

She takes a deep breath, inhaling the smell of flowers and earth before she exits Whitestone. She’s halfway across the street when she realizes why the storefront felt so familiar to her, why she felt so comfortable inside.

It reminded her of the greenhouse at the University. She’d spent most of her days there, when she was still working on her degree. Before her mother disappeared. 

She thought, once upon a time, that most of her life would be spent in a greenhouse. That she’d be a botanist, not a tattoo artist. 

_ Her mother was so proud of her.  _

She stops in her tracks.

Is she really happy being a tattoo artist? Or does she just like the people?

Does she still want to be a botanist?

She had still wanted to be a botanist when she dropped out -  _ it’s just til they find mom,  _ she’d told herself. Then,  _ it’s just for a semester. It’s just for a year.  _

And by then she had gotten her licensure, and she stopped thinking about her degree. And they never found her mom. And here she was, three years later. 

Her twenty-year old self would be shocked. 

_ Does she want to be a botanist?  _

The question scares her. If the answer is no, then that would mean she’s become an entirely different person since her mother disappeared. For so long, all Keyleth ever wanted was to be a botanist. Just like her mom. It would mean she’s not like her mom anymore, and that terrifies her.

If the answer is yes, and Keyleth decides to go back to school, that would mean she’s given up on the search. She told herself she would only re-enroll when they found her mom, and they haven’t found her yet.  _ Isn’t that just admitting that she’s never coming back, or worse?  _ Keyleth thinks.

She’s not sure what is worse. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> soooo sorry for taking so long to update but ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ . I'm surprised I even wrote this but I'm freaking out over a test I have in like, eight hours so naturally I gotta write some grogleth. idk how i feel about this but it's 1 am and I'm tired and I wanna post something. No editing we die like men and all that. Follow me on tumblr, im pike-trickfoots and I have some (better, shorter, more coherent) writing there in my fic tag. hope you enjoy this!

It’s a quarter to midnight on a Tuesday, and Keyleth is a three-quarters of the way through a bottle of wine Vex gave her two weeks ago, partly as a repayment for the tattoo. Keyleth isn’t normally a wine person - she doesn’t love how it tastes, and wine-drunk Keyleth tends to make questionable decisions, but she has to admit, Vex knows how to pick a bottle of wine. 

She’s pacing, a habit she never used to do but picked up in the weeks following her mother’s disappearance, feet absentmindedly pattering back and forth over the well-worn green rug in front of her unmade bed. When she thinks about it, she tries not to pace so late in the night - she hates bothering her downstairs neighbors (Allura is too nice to say anything and Keyleth hates taking advantage of that), but given the amount of wine she’s had, she can’t find it within herself to care.

Her laptop, old and slightly dented, sits on her bed, screen glowing. A filled out University of Emon, Botany Program application fills the screen, the only thing left to do is click the red SUBMIT button. 

And so, Keyleth paces.

 

* * *

 

Grog can’t sleep. Normally, he can lay down on anything mostly horizontal and be out cold within four minutes - Pike’s timed him - without any effort. 

He can’t turn off his brain. All he can do is playback the day, and wonder if Keyleth was all right. She’d seemed off all day, lost in thought, not really talking. Pike would probably say she was  _ pensive _ , whatever that meant.

Grog sits up in bed, glancing at the clock - 12:17. He groans - he had wanted to get up early and hit the gym, but now he’s not so sure that’ll happen. 

Grog had asked Keyleth earlier that day if she had wanted to go grab a drink on Friday, a completely normal question for two friends, but  _ oh, fuck, what if she thought that was a date and that was why she was actin’ so weird and oh shit fuck fuck -  _

And now Grog’s pacing back and forth. 

Was that a weird thing to ask? They went out for drinks together all the time. Granted, normally Scanlan was there, too, but he figured Scanlan would tag along anyways. Oh, shit - did he _want_ it to be a date? _I mean, Keyleth’s pretty, an’ all, and funny, too. And tough, she could prob’ly beat the shit outta me if she really tried._ _Oh, fuck._

And so, Grog paces.

 

* * *

 

Keyleth’s finished the bottle of wine and had something she found in the back of her fridge - the label was peeled off and it smells fruity, something that tells her Scanlan probably left it there - when the clock hits half past one. 

She’s drunk, well and truly, and she sits on the floor in front of her bed, staring at her laptop screen. The SUBMIT button seems to be yelling her, she thinks.  _ You didn’t find your mom! It’s been three years! What makes you think you can just pick up where you left off? What makes you think you can be the girl you used to be? _

“Fuck you, button,” she grumbles, glaring at her computer. “An’ fuck you, too,” she says, louder, to her webcam, “Fuckin’ NSA agents, making fun of me because I can’t make a decision. What an asshole.”

“And fuck you, life! Screwin’ me over, giving me trauma and shit, what the hell?” She yells in the direction of her window.

Oh, yes. Telling things to fuck off feels  _ right _ , Keyleth decides. And pretty soon she’s telling everything to fuck off, from her shower with shitty water pressure to the sun for shining directly in her eyes when she tries to sleep in past ten. 

Pretty soon, Keyleth has her phone in hand, and she’s dialing a number. She’s slightly surprised when a confused voice picks up on the first ring, “Keyleth? What the hell? It’s early as shit, are you alright?” asks Grog, slightly confused and concerned. 

“Grog? What are you doin’ up so late?” Keyleth hiccups.

“Keyleth, are you drunk callin’ me?” asks a bemused Grog.

“Nooo… I had… somethin’ I wanted to say.”

“Yeah?”

“Fuck off!” Keyleth yells into her phone.

“Um.”

“Fuck off, Grog Stonejaw - wait, no,  _ fuck _ \- Shortjaw -  _ no, goddamn it _ \- Strongjaw. You’re a… motherfucker!”

“Keyleth, is everything all right?”

“You’re such an…  _ asshole _ , you fuckin’ kissed me like, three months ago and you  _ never said anything _ and now I’m staring at this goddamn submit button for stupidass university and it’s  _ mocking me _ and  _ fuck you!  _ Fuck everything, I’m fucking done,” Keyleth rants, gesturing wildly with her arm, nearly knocking over the now-empty wine bottle. “Oh, fuck, nearly knocked that over, whoops.”

“Wait, did you jus’ say University?” Grog asks.

“Yep,” Keyleth hiccups, “The submit button is… being a real motherfucker though.”

“What? All you gotta do is click it, right?” asks Grog, feeling more confused than he has in quite some time.

“ _ Noooo,  _ lemme show you, when I click it-” Keyleth says, clicking the SUBMIT button. “Oh, no. Oh nonononono. Shit. Motherfucker. Oh  _ noooooo,” _ she whispers.

“What?” 

“I submitted my application.” replies Keyleth, shell-shocked and instantly sobered.

“And? That should be great, right?” questions Grog, “Congrats.”

“I didn’t - I didn’t… Oh,  _ fuck.” _

“Keyleth?” Grog asks, concerned. She can hear in his voice, he’s ready to talk her down, to help her.

She doesn’t want help. Not now. Not when she’s drunk and angry and still confused as to why he never talked to her after their kiss. Not when she’s trying to figure out if going back to school is betraying her mother, not when she doesn’t even know what she wants in life anymore. She doesn’t want help. She doesn’t want help. 

“SorrybutIgottagobye!” Keyleth says in to the phone before quickly hanging up. 

She doesn’t want help. If she says it often enough, maybe she’ll start to believe it.

In the dark, Keyleth whispers, “Fuck.” 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this is a short update, but I've been wanting to come back to this story for soooooo long and I finally had time to, I'm sorry it's been so long but I hope y'all enjoy! Follow me on tumblr (where I'm just as active as i am here lmao) i'm pike-trickfoots

Pike figures something’s going on. She knows her schedule is hectic, working nights at the ER, so going a while without seeing Keyleth is pretty normal, but she figures Keyleth should be answering more of her texts. At least, Keyleth should be more rambly. But all of Keyleth’s replies are short, concise. One or two words, maybe an emoji. Pike’s worried. 

Pike figures something’s going on that involves Grog when, during their weekly viewing party of  _ Game of Thrones  _ followed by  _ The Bachelor in Paradise, Grog hardly reacts to his favorite contestant, Emily, getting eliminated. He hardly even blinks. He just keeps looking over at his phone, like he’s waiting on someone to call.  _

__

_ Maybe it’s all connected, _ Pike thinks. _ Maybe they’ve both had rough weeks. Or maybe it’s something else? _

Pike resolves then to make concrete plans with Keyleth sometime this week.

* * *

 

Scanlan knows he’s not the most perceptive person on the planet, but the tension in the shop is thick enough to choke. Even Kaylie’s noticed it - when she visited the shop last week after school, she’d pulled Scanlan aside and asked who killed who’s grandmother. Grog and Keyleth are avoiding each other, and he’s had it - it’s bad business, for one (and heaven only knows how often Pike is getting on Grog’s case to run a better business), and it’s ruining his whole vibe. 

It also sucks to see his friends hurting. 

So when he sees Grog cast the thousandth pining look towards Keyleth’s workstation (a look she resolutely avoids - Scanlan can hardly remember the last time she’s looked Grog in the eyes), he thinks he might scream. 

It’s on a bleary Monday morning when Scanlan stands on his wheelie-chair, and clapping his hands together, announces, “Everybody! Team meeting! Of the very important kind! Right now!”

Keyleth, who had been unabashedly going through Instagram, looks up and says drily, “You’re supposed to e-mail us to schedule meetings.”

“There are three of us.”

“The point still stands. It’s in the employee handbook.” Keyleth replies as she puts her phone down and turns to face Scanlan, still standing on his chair.

“Come on, you know we stole that handbook from the week and a half Grog worked at a Panera.”

“And I find the section on what to do if you run out of bread to be very informative and crucial to this job.” 

“We have bread?” Asks a confused Grog, poking his head out the door of his ‘study’. 

“Nah, Keyleth’s just making fun of me.”

“Oh.”

“Anyway, we have to have a meeting, guys,” starts Scanlan, still standing on his wheelie-chair.  _ He should stop shifting his weight, _ thinks Keyleth.  _ He’s going to fall. _

Grog, looking puzzled, comes out to stand near Scanlan’s chair - even with the smaller man standing on a chair, Grog still towers over him by a near half-foot.

“You two,” he says, pointing at Grog and Keyleth, “are avoiding each other. And it has to stop. Both because it’s unprofessional, and also because you lot are harshing my vibe.”

Keyleth yells, “you’re calling  _ us _ unprofessional?” right as Grog says, “wait, what’re you on about?”

Scanlan sighs, a heavy, full-bodied sigh that sends him falling off the wheelie-chair as Keyleth yells about how bringing people back to his  _ tattoo shop for sex is, like, waaaaayyy more unprofessional. _ Grog catches Scanlan before he hits the ground, and sets him up on the ground. 

He straightens his shirt as Keyleth finishes, and says, “you guys are friends. Act like it. I need to go across the street to talk to the Whitestone people about all the mail mix-ups, and then I’m going to grab a coffee. I’ll be back for my eleven o’clock appointment. That should give you plenty of time to talk, huh?” With a forced grin, Scanlan grabs his purple coat, pushes open the worn front door and leaves. 

The door slams shut with a loud  _ BANG _ , the silence of the shop deafening in comparison to only a few minutes prior. 

With shaky hands, Keyleth turns and faces Grog with a sheepish look on her face, “Well.”

“Yeah.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: says i'm going to update within two weeks of the last chapter. Also me: doesn't touch this for over a month. Sorry!!! I just can't make them do what I want them to do, and I'm not really sure how I feel about this, I might end up taking it down in the future and re-writing this (if not half this fic) i just. cannot make them do what i want them to. ugh.

Grog knows he isn’t the best at words, or really, expressin’ himself in any way. He’s the guy you come to if you need a badass tattoo, or if you’re in a bar fight, or if you just really want to punch something. 

So being left alone to  _ talk.  _ About  _ emotions.  _ Isn’t really his cup of tea (as a matter of fact, tea isn’t even his cup of tea - he’d rather have a beer). 

But he does want to talk to Keyleth - he knows she’s going through something, and he wants to be there for her, he really does. And he misses his friend. Grog takes a deep breath in, and starts, “so-”.

“I need to start working part-time,” interrupts Keyleth.

“Wait - that’s not what Scan- wait, why?” 

“My application was accepted - University of Emon, botany. I start in a few weeks with the spring semester,”  Keyleth says, looking at anything but Grog. 

“Keyleth! That’s - that’s amazing!” Booms Grog, “That’s real excitin’!”

Keyleth shoots Grog a sheepish smile, and tugs at the sleeve of her massive green sweater. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Are… you not excited?”

“I don’t know,” sighs Keyleth, “It’s been so long since I’ve been at school, and I worked so hard to get my tattoo licensure, and once I really start working towards the degree I can’t keep doing both, not to mention-” she cuts herself off abruptly. 

“Mention what?”

“It’s nothing, Grog.”

Grog sits himself down in the wheelie-chair Scanlan had fallen off of earlier, and positions himself so he’s looking Keyleth in the eye, “it doesn’ sound like nothin’, Keyleth.”

She sighs again, and runs her hands through her hair. “It’s just - ugh this is so  _ stupid _ \- I dropped out of university to look for my mom, and it feels like going back is giving up on ever finding her.”

“Keyleth, that’s not stupid, and believe me, I know stupid,” Grog says, grabbing her hand.

She smiles at him, briefly, before suddenly yanking it back and shoving her face in her hands, “And what if I forgot everything I know about botany? Or what if I’m not good enough, or I hate it, and when I try to go back to tattooing I realize I forgot everything and-”

Grog interrupts, “Keyleth.” 

“Yeah?” she replies meekly, peeking up through her fingers.

“Do ya wanna be a tattoo artist for your whole life?”

“Well… No, I don’t think so,” Keyleth admits, “But I still want to hang out with you and Scanlan!”

Grog laughs, and then asks, “Do ya see yourself doin’ whatever a whats-it-called does?”

“Botanist.”

“Flutist, yeah.”

“I think I do, yeah,” admits Keyleth, lowering her hands and finally -  _ finally,  _ Grog thinks - returning his gaze.

“Then why are you afraid?” asks Grog, leaning forward, ever so slightly.

And Grog knows, he  _ knows  _ he isn’t good at words, but when Keyleth smiles a little at that, he knows he must’ve said  _ something  _ right.

“Because,” she says, joining their hands together and looking at the way they fit together - her hands, small, soft, and tattooed, laced with his, large and calloused, “what if things change?”

“Seems like they can only change for the better, right?” Grog replies, squeezing her hand slightly.

“You do know, me becoming a botanist would mean I’d have to quit sooner or later,” she retorts, looking up at him with a hesitant look in her eyes, and Grog’s heart does a weird little skippy-thing that makes him inhale sharply.

“And we’d miss you, yeah - but it’s not like flutists can’t hang out with their friends and get a drink, right?” He says, only partly worried.

“No, of course I could still go get drinks and stuff,” she replies, “but it’d be different, right? Me not working in the shop?”

“Why are you so worried we’re not gonna be friends with you anymore?”

“I just - Grog, I don’t… I don’t think I could handle it if you left me, too.” she says, quietly as she carefully examines the fine lines on Grog’s knuckle.

Grog’s heart aches for Keyleth as she says that, and he pulls her into a only  _ slightly  _ awkward side-hug. “ _ When,”  _ he asks, “have I  _ ever  _ given you a reason to think I wanna leave?”

“Grog,” whispers Keyleth, “I think I’d like to kiss you again.”

“I think I’d like that, too.”

And she does. 

* * *

 

Scanlan comes back a little early for his eleven o’clock appointment to find Keyleth and Grog, making out on his -  _ his! _ \- wheelie-chair, and decides to wait outside on the curb for a bit. 

He pats himself on the shoulder while simultaneously trying to burn the mental image of

his two best friends sucking face on  _ his  _ chair. 

Yeah, there’ll be an important meeting about  _ that  _ later, he decides. 


End file.
